


standstill

by hydrochloric



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8430739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrochloric/pseuds/hydrochloric
Summary: Kiku Honda had clammy hands, cold hands, worse than cold feet; always brushing against Lovino's skin and hanging onto his sleeve and never any more than that.





	

Kiku Honda had clammy hands, cold hands, worse than cold feet; always brushing against Lovino's skin and hanging onto his sleeve and never any more than that.

Lovino lit another cigarette and took a long drag. "Smoking's bad for your health," Kiku said, absentmindedly.

"Smoking's bad for you," he said, again, and gently pried loose the cigarette from his fingers. Lovino sighed, pushed away when Kiku touched his arm.

"Shame I've ruined my nice pink lungs," he replied.

Kiku had been lying on the bed, staring at the rings on the ceiling, like age lines on tree trunks. He looked up then; said, earnestly, "Yes, but if you stop now, your lung functions will begin improving in less than three months."

"Smoking's bad for you," said Lovino. "That's the fun of it. you know that, right?"

The sheets rustled as Kiku shifted to face away from him, holding tight one of the pillows Lovino left lying around, always without a case. "I don't," he said. "I don't understand, really. And I don't like it. It isn't fun to watch you self-destruct."

Lovino's response was to burn through the rest of the pack on the bedside table.

They didn’t talk much after that.

\--

Lovino had a horribly irreverent air about him, and his apartment was never clean, and he collected strange marks on his body like Kiku collected movie tickets and postcards. "Where is this from," he wanted to ask – wanted to reach over and touch and smooth out with his hands again and again – but he was hesitant even lying in bed, hearing nothing but the raspy breaths of a boy who could be wholly his if he could just cross that space of two feet. Less than that.

He traced clavicles with his eyes instead, and sallow skin. The faintest glimpse of stubble.

Lovino lit another cigarette and took a long drag. "Smoking's bad for your health," Kiku said, absentmindedly. He tried to recall an article he read about the life expectancy of smokers but he couldn't seem to think properly.

Exhaling, Lovino said, "I don't really care."

"Do you care about me?"

Kiku measured the seconds before he spoke, and felt the numbers pounding in his throat. Felt like the orange heat between Lovino's fingers, the gloom coming in spurts like the new leak in the ceiling, until

Inhaling, Lovino said, "Yeah."

He sat up; the bed creaked. "I don't believe you." His mouth was dry. He cleared his throat. He thought about coughing up black tar. "I don't believe you," he said again.

"Hm."

Sometimes Lovino would get like this, his voice low and deliberate, twisting into him like a corkscrew – like he was trying to draw something out of him.

"Hm," he would say. Things like, "Hm. Well.

"What do you want me to do?"

Lovino cocked his head, crooked, lazy; and Kiku thought about coughing up his feelings. "Prove it to me," he said, looking at the half-burnt cigarette but thinking about something entirely different, and thinking that either way he could get what he wanted.

But Lovino only raised an eyebrow, and almost sadistic in his slowness he leaned back, away from him. He closed his eyes. And he blew smoke through his nostrils without coughing a bit, although Kiku's eyes were stinging.

\--

It was a while later. In his house this time, because Lovino said his landlord said she'd finally send someone over to fix the leak, and they were going to take a bit, and he didn't have any other friends to stay with; and anyway they both knew Kiku would do anything for him.

Kiku didn't have a spare room at his place, but he did have a couch. "I can sleep here and you can sleep in my room, if you'd like," he said.

And Lovino had been quiet, and then he'd said, "No. This is fine."

And Kiku said, "Are you sure? I don't mind. It's only one night."

And Lovino said, "It's your house. And the couch looks fine."

And Kiku said, "But I want you to be comfortable."

And Lovino had let out a huff, and then scowled, and then said, "For fuck's sake, just let me sleep on the damn couch." So he did.

Then they had dinner, without much talk; Kiku had made rice and fish and soup, and he'd laughed as Lovino struggled with the chopsticks Kiku had set out, not thinking much of it at the time. "You're like a child," he'd said, and Lovino had turned red in that way that was so endearing to him. "You'll spill all your rice if you keep doing it like that. Don't hold it like a pencil – here, look – " and then he'd frozen.

"I'm sorry," he said, after a moment, hand withdrawn. "I'll get you a fork."

After that Lovino only picked at his food but he assured Kiku that everything was all right, the food's fine, great, really, it's nothing; and he insisted on doing the dishes so Kiku sat at the counter trying not to watch him but doing so anyway. What had he done before, when he was alone at home? He couldn't remember. He pressed his palm against the cool marble of the countertop. He couldn't remember ever not being in the kitchen, with Lovino grumbling, soap on his arms, the swells and dips of his back such an inviting form.

"What a pain," said Lovino, rinsing. "Why do you have so many plates?"

"Ah." Kiku pulled his hands to his cheeks, pulse in all the points of contact. Nervous energy winding through to the ends of him. "You could have let me do it."

He saw Lovino stop. "That's not – "

The sound of running water filled his head.

"That's not what I meant," Lovino said. "That's not what I want. You don't… you're not… fuck." He resumed action. His shoulders shuffled roughly. "Fuck. I need a smoke."

"Lovino."

"What? I wasn't going to do it in here. I'm not that careless."

"No, it's…"

"Are you going to lecture me again?" asked Lovino with a sigh.

"No – well, yes. It's just…” Kiku bit his lip. "Please think about me sometimes," he said quietly. "If you'd care to do that."

The water shut off. "What?"

"You might die if you keep going like this, and you don't care about that. But I do." Lovino was looking at him now, his expression frustratingly opaque. "And I might die too, anyway. Because of you," he added, out of spite. "Do you want that on your conscience?"

Because Lovino said nothing he felt he had to go on. "I was raised in the city; there's a lot of smog there. I have weak lungs. Secondhand smoke is dangerous and – I'm going to be with you for a long time. Long enough that you probably _will_ see me die, if you don't first, yourself... so stop."

There were wet spots on Lovino's shirt, where he'd crossed his arms a moment ago. "Oh," he said, scratching his neck. "Um."

"I… like you," Kiku said, weakly. "Please take me seriously."

"Mm." There was a hint of a smile on Lovino's lips, an uncontrollable twitch upwards that made Kiku's stomach flip. "I am."

"Then don't…"

But as he feared, Lovino laughed, his face buried in his hands.

"Fine. I understand," said Kiku, getting up, his face hot. "But you should know that… if I weren't brought up to have manners and respect for other people – " he paused for effect " – I would have made you leave right now."

He turned around to go – somewhere, he didn't know; his room, maybe, or outside. He didn't think he was capable of being in the same space as Lovino at this moment; Lovino, who hardly ever smiled (even when Kiku went through the best jokes in his book of modern humor) but was laughing now, so hard his face was flushed, and looking so infuriatingly soft and sweet that it made Kiku wanted to keep watching despite himself. "No – hey – " said Lovino, between breaths. And then there was gentle pressure on his shoulder, but he didn't turn around.

"Look," Lovino said, and his voice was close and quiet. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh – that was a dick move."

"I'm glad you know."

"Yeah. Sorry. It's just, you're so… ah. I wasn't expecting that."

Kiku could feel shame crawling up his throat. "Can we pretend I didn't say anything?" he said.

"What? No," Lovino mumbled, his fingers playing with the fabric of Kiku's shirt. "Don't be stupid. You said you like me. No takebacks."

Static ran across his back in waves. His heart leaden. "You're always like this," he said.

"Like what?"

"Selfish. And cruel. You knew I liked you." And he hated himself for the way his voice snagged on something hard and sharp in his throat; he hated himself for the way it would make him cry any minute now; he hated himself for looking at Lovino, then, baring his ugly vulnerability just so he could search that face for some hint of remorse. As though that would make him feel better.

But instead Lovino said, "No, I didn't, asshole. Not when you were playing hot and cold all the time. One minute you're worrying about me and being nice and acting like you care, and the next… you don't want to look at me, or touch me, even accidentally. How the hell was I supposed to know anything?"

Slowly he tried to form the right words, but his brain swam inside his head, circling around confusion, embarrassment, avoidance, strange hope. He sank down to his feet, found a wall and curled into himself, hugging his knees. "I wasn't… sure," he said, finally.

"You weren't sure," he heard Lovino say from somewhere in the air.

"I was afraid."

"I can be a jerk sometimes, but I'm not trying to hurt you," said Lovino, quietly.

"I know. You say harsh things but you don't mean them. But still – I don't know. I was."

Lovino sighed, and then he was on the floor next to him, hand impossibly close to his own. "Still scared?" he said, without the acid, without the bite.

Kiku didn't respond.

"I'm scared too," Lovino said. "All the time, lately. I feel like I've been fucking it all up, with you, 'cos I can't stop running off my stupid mouth, or losing my temper, or doing the wrong thing. And I don't care when that happens with that bastard Antonio, or my brother's boyfriend, or, whatever, but. I don't want to scare you off. Or hurt you."

Then they were quiet, and the quiet stretched out the time around them until Kiku thought they must have been crouched in the hallway forever, the two of them; and all he would know was the dark wood of the floor and Lovino next to him, legs a little longer than his, body radiating heat, looking at the same direction as Kiku was. Distantly he heard the sound of water, erratic like a clock that had forgotten how to count. The sink, probably.

And nothing. Lovino didn't say, _well?_ or, _say something, damn it,_ or, _never mind, idiot,_ like he would have usually, and maybe he was waiting for him to respond. Maybe he was still afraid, in the same way Kiku's heart was. As though it were running away from something. As though it would be eaten alive.

So he said, pulling away from that uneasy limbo, "Thank you. For telling me." And his heart felt so dizzy coming to a stop. He let it catch its breath, realize there was no danger before he reached over, tentatively, and placed his hand on Lovino's. Dry and smooth and warm and tensing, at first, which made Kiku freeze, but Lovino just flipped his hand over so their palms were touching, and their fingers could fit together.

"I want to be honest with you, too," said Kiku softly. "There are things I want to say to you, without looking away."

"Well, I've been waiting," said Lovino. "It's so hard to tell what you're thinking sometimes, you know that?"

And he smiled, and squeezed his hand tight.

\--

Lovino had a horribly irreverent air about him, and his apartment was never clean, and he was like a stubborn leak that wouldn't be fixed. Creeping in and warping his foundations. And Lovino was the kind of person who got along fine without any pots in his kitchen, which had bothered Kiku, at first; but he grew preoccupied with making up for lost time, and his head tuned out the dripping of water against metal for other senses.

He was smoothing over the marks on Lovino's body, now, the way he'd always wanted to.

Lovino lit another cigarette and took a long drag.

"Lovino," he said, with tired eyes. There was a time, once, when he recited statistics and studies on the hazards of smoking, about the buildup of plaque and addiction and dependence. It hung on the tip of his tongue now but he swallowed it, and pulled Lovino in for a kiss instead. The cigarette grazed a strand of his hair as Lovino fumbled with it, moved his hand to the side so no one got burnt.

There was an ashtray on the stand by the bed, and Lovino ground the cigarette against it before flipping over above Kiku. Growling like a feral thing.

"Changing tactics, huh," he said, with a lazy grin.

All Kiku could see was that his lips were chapped and cracking. He wanted to seal it with spit. "What do you mean?" he said, as Lovino nipped at his throat.

"I dunno. I like this a lot more than that D.A.R.E. shit you were doing before though." A kiss, two kisses. "Distraction's nice. Gotta have something to do with my mouth."

"I like this better too. It's doing something, at least."

Lovino sighed, a short puff, and there was still the smell of cigarettes on his breath. "Yeah, it's doing something all right."

Another kiss, gentler this time; and then they were melting into each other, the point where one body ended giving way to another hazy, like smoke dissipating into the air.

\--

Kiku Honda had clammy hands, cold hands, worse than cold feet, and Lovino was always shivering because of it, and complaining, but he never drew away.

"Smoking's bad for you," Kiku said, again, when they were tired, and the sweat had dried from their limbs.

"That's the fun of it," said Lovino, with a laugh, ten fingers locked with Kiku's. "You know that, right?"

And Kiku paused, hovering over Lovino's cheek. _I know, I know, I know,_ he murmured into his skin. A thousand words of color, shape, location of the imprints – by the mole on his shoulder; in the dip between ear and jaw. The warmth of which only he knew.


End file.
